‘Yes, of course.’ I glance at Tom. His skin is pale and there is a haunted look in his eyes. Mrs Hoskine fusses about the kitchen. I haven’t really seen anyone except Tom and George in passing. Tom reaches out and grabs my hand and he gives it a squeeze. I close my eyes for a moment then pull away.

‘Follow me.’ I walk instinctively to my father’s study. Even though Allan had been using it as his since my mother died, it still carries my father’s imprint on it. Many of the books lining one wall are his and not Allan’s. I stop at the desk, realising that aside from the teddy bear in my daughter’s arms and the clothes in the cupboard, Allan has not left an imprint on Boskenna. How could I have been married to him for eight years and find our home so untouched by him?

Sitting in the chair beside the desk, I indicate that Pat should take the one at the desk. He sits and opens his pad, tapping his pencil. His eyes dart around, and his discomfort amuses me. It shouldn’t. It is completely the wrong emotion to have. ‘How can I help?’ I cross my legs at the ankles and fold my hands on my lap, as demure as I can be. I must put him at ease and make him feel in control.

‘Sorry to have to go through this.’ He clears his throat and twiddles the pencil, and I suppress the urge to slap it out of his hand.

Giving my head a quick shake, I say, ‘It’s your job and it’s necessary.’

‘Thank you for your understanding.’ He twists the pencil in his hands again. ‘Now, could you tell me about last night?’

‘Well.’ I take a deep breath. ‘We had a dinner party for Allan’s birthday.’

‘Were all the guests staying at the house?’

I nod then stop. ‘No, sorry. The Venns, an American couple who have rented Penweathers, were here last night for the party.’ I swallow. I don’t need them questioned. ‘They left the party via their tender not too long after we finished dinner. I think it was certainly before midnight.’

‘Can you be more precise?’ He looks up at me and if he twists the pencil again, I won’t be responsible for my actions.

Giving him a small smile, I say, ‘Well, I was checking on Diana who I discovered awake and reading. So, by the time I’d settled her and returned to the party they had gone.’

‘I see.’

‘Other than the Venns, everyone was here. The first to retire was Anthea and her husband, Rupert, and everyone bar myself and Allan had gone to bed by two thirty.’ Silence falls while he jots that information down and I wonder how he will phrase the next question.

‘So you went to . . . you retired together?’